


Bittersweet

by kyo_chan



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/kyo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy makes it a little game so that he doesn't start thinking about what it really means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Again, many thanks to my fiancee for the inspiration and to aionwatha for the beta. This fic also has its own fanart by the lovely Animeg. http://instagram.com/p/VLP21KHQOy/

In Mustang’s office, they seemed to amass mugs from the mess hall. Something was always distracting them, making them forget to return the tired things to their home. So Hawkeye would take them to the closest washroom and rinse them out, dry them with the towel and set them near the coffee maker. They were old, chipped and stained on the inside from all they went through. Uniquely, they all had a story to tell, much like the soldiers that used them, but together they blended. Looked the same. 

On Edward Elric’s first day as a State Alchemist, Roy picked up the wrong mug, a blind reach for caffeine while he was looking over his new charge’s file. He knew his mistake in the first eager gulp. The sudden rush of sweetness burned down his throat and made his teeth ache. He actually peered into the cup to make sure there really was coffee in it. Sure enough, his reflection wavered in an inky darkness, but just beneath it was the sludge of more sugar than he cared to think about. Across from him, the newly dubbed Fullmetal Alchemist was wearing an equally disgusted expression, lips puckered like he’d tasted something vile.

“Great, now I have your germs, Mustang.” It seemed that as soon as they’d exchanged formalities, the real foundation of their future involvement with one another was set. 

Mustang didn’t miss a beat. “How can you drink this?” 

“What? I didn’t even add milk.” Edward glared into what was actually his CO’s mug before he plunked it down on the desk and shoved it in Roy’s direction. “At least it doesn’t taste like mud.”

“It doesn’t—nevermind.”

Weeks later, Roy visited his best friend and got talked into staying for dinner. Somehow, he forgot how obnoxious it was to have pictures shoved in his face and listen to the endless chatter that accompanied each and every one. Seeing Maes with his family felt like an unexpected respite from the toils of his work. It always put things back into perspective, the reasons why he had so many lofty goals. And on this particular occasion, he thought of the two boys he’d ended up looking after, one of them a dog of the military, just as he was. He wondered if this was what they had sought to recapture when they tried to bring their mother back. 

Gracia wandered in with a loving smile on her face, holding a mug. She blew on it gently, her pursed lips damp with steam, the ripples moving elegantly in her perfect teacup. She took a sip before handing it to her husband, and the peaceful image was broken by what Roy could only call a squeal from Maes. 

“Did you see that, Roy?” he chirped. “You know what they say.” He paused to drink and Roy could have sworn he turned the cup around just so to make sure his lips touched where Gracia’s had. “It’s just like a kiss. Isn’t my Gracia so romantic?”

Roy was sure he had rolled his eyes, but he never forgot.

If the late Maes Hughes was to be believed, Roy and Ed had kissed more times than the former would have ever admitted and the latter ever knew about. In the years that had passed, Roy had made picking up the wrong coffee mug an art form, an act of stealth that he refused to see as anything but casual observation. He didn’t allow himself to think about the times Ed’s lip was split when his mouth touched the rim of the mug or the quick swipe of Ed’s tongue along the edge (Roy always licked his lips when it happened…). Instead, he would focus his attention on how the coffee slowly lost the overwhelming edge of sweetness. Thick, sugary warmth gave way to something more pungent and sharp, as if the acidity had worn away the defenses. Ed didn’t make a face anymore when he honestly grabbed Roy’s mug by accident, just huffed and swapped them again. Roy savored any coffee left in his cup for as long as he could before it got cold.

While Mustang was still at the hospital after the Promised Day, Ed visited him and broke the news that he was going back to Risembool with Alphonse. It made perfect sense; after all this, it was only natural that Ed would want to spend time helping Al recover back in their old home town. Being unable to see the smile he heard in Edward’s voice made the parting bittersweet, but he listened intently as Ed rambled about apple pie, sheep and automail. They sat together and drank the hospital coffee, laughing over how it seemed impossible that anything could be worse than the mess hall brew. As Ed got up to leave, Roy fumbled for his mug, annoyed that he had forgotten where he’d placed it on his tray. 

“Here, old man,” Ed told him with a hint of teasing in his voice. No sympathy. It was never something they shared, at least not where the other could see it. 

A mug was pushed against his seeking fingers, and Roy mumbled a thanks as Ed said goodbye and his footsteps faded down the hall. He told himself it was an accident when the coffee touched his lips and he tasted just a hint of sugar.


End file.
